


There’s four and twenty million doors on life’s endless corridor

by gerlonso



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, all the kids and wives are involved, kind of, stevie/michael is a side thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 01:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17695115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerlonso/pseuds/gerlonso
Summary: jamie watches his best friend fall in love throughout his whole life.





	There’s four and twenty million doors on life’s endless corridor

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from The Masterplan by Oasis

You've been friends with Stevie longer than anyone else. You‘ve grown up with him, loving him like a younger brother and watching him evolve into the man he is today.

And part of being friends with him for such a long time is that you know he's never been good at hiding his emotions. They always shine through, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

You‘re just ten when you first meet him. He‘s only eight. The coach pulls you aside to instruct you to take him under your wing, to show him around and make him feel at home. You hold back the strop you want to throw, and dutifully show the small kid around like you said you would.

You‘re eternally grateful for that instruction. You don’t know where you'd be without Stevie by your side, both on and off the pitch. He‘s your rock, so naturally, his pain affects you and vice versa.

The first time you see that cocksure grin falter is when Stevie is fourteen. You‘re at a park near Michael's house, just the three of you, kicking a ball back and forth when a group of young girls walk past. Stevie stops the ball when it lands at his feet, excusing himself as he runs up to the group of girls and wraps an arm around the tall brunette girl. You and Michael watch as she gently takes his hand, pulling him aside to speak to him. You watch him nod along shakily, watch her rejoin her friends and watch him walk back to you with his head hung dejectedly. "Alright?" You ask worriedly. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. "No, but it don't matter. Let's get back to the game."

He gets over that fairly quickly, though. He focusses most of his time and effort on football, much to his mother's dismay at his distinctly average grades. He doesn’t look at many girls throughout that time, but you notice every now and again that his eyes would wonder to one boy during academy practices and group hangouts, how he talks about him as if he’s the best thing in the world. Bragging to his friends at school. 

Michael is the worst for him, you think. Michael is his first everything; first boyfriend, first kiss, first time, first "I love you", and first real sense of heartbreak when Michael trades in red for white, Liverpool for Spain, in what is to become an almost reoccurring theme in Stevie’s life. You'll never forget the day Stevie shows up on your doorstep with tears in eyes and a distressed comment of “ _he didn’t even tell me, Carra, I had to find out through the news.”_

That is probably the most dramatic year of his life. So much happens over the span of twelve months that it baffles you, even to this day. His first love leaves, his second love (can you really even call it love?) has a baby — who Stevie showers in more affection than he has anyone before, or after — and his third (and most severe) love arrives.

2004 is most probably the year that will stick in his memory longer and clearer than any other.

 

 

"Do you think he loves her?" You ask Nicola in December of 2004, at one of your annual Christmas parties.

Nic looks up from where she‘s rocking Mia in her arms. She follows your line of sight to where Stevie and Alex sit in the corner of the large sitting room, Stevie watching your son James interact with his baby girl, Lilly-Ella, and Alex finishing her umpteenth flute of champagne.

"Sure, I think so," Nicola comments after a beat of silence. "I think he loves her. But I don't think he's in love with her."

"Y'what?" You furrow your brows, confused, and take a swig from your beer bottle. "How the fuck did you get that right?"

She thumps you in the arm and gestures to the sleeping child in her arms. You hold your hands up in apology for swearing in front of her. "I think he loves and respects her as a person, but I don't think he's in love with her. They just don't have that same spark he'd have with someone else. You know?"

You nod along slowly, taking in the observation. You suppose that makes sense, Stevie isn’t the same with Alex as he was with Michael (and Xabi. But he didn't even act around Michael the same way he does the Spaniard). 

"Yeah," you breathe out, eyes wondering to where Xabi sits in the kitchen talking to Luis, no doubt it Spanish. "I know."

 

 

"Hi, I'm Xabi."

Those three words have more of an impact on Steven George Gerrard's life than anyone can anticipate, least of all them.

You watch their very first interaction. You and Stevie both shake hands with him, along with Luis Garcia who had arrived that same August day. Steven overlooks them both, still sulking aboutu Michael's departure. He‘s still polite though, ever the sweet boy you knew his mother has raised him to be, as he takes their names before leaving you behind in the dressing rooms to deal with them. 

"So, lads, you ready for your first day at the best place on Earth?"

 

 

Stevie and Xabi click the moment they link up during the very first practice. "Gerrard, I want you and Alonso as partners for today's activities" Rafa had declared before the group of you set out on the warm up run.

Stevie falls behind, as he always does. He‘s never all the way up front and never all the way in the back. Sami will lead the pack, and you will hang behind. That's how it always works.

Xabi falls into step next to Stevie. They run comfortably with each other, arms and legs and breathing in sync. You can sense they'll make a good pair.

This is confirmed when they join up in midfield in a game during training. The ball flies effortlessly between them, Xabi's technique strategic and calculated, Stevie’sthorough and determined. The two of them were, for lack of a better word, _magic_.

 

 

Xabi fits in easily. Stevie takes it upon himself to take Xabi under his wing (much like you had all those years ago at the academy) and show him the way around Merseyside.

Soon enough, Xabi is joining you and the lads on nights out, catching onto the Scouse dialect you and Stevie would throw about. From his seat beside Stevie, always beside Stevie, he'll laugh along and it feels like he's been there for years. You know then that his blood bleeds the same shade of red as your's and Stevie's.

Stevie is amazed by him. He will gush about Xabi any chance he gets, will even bring him up completely out of the blue.

You think nothing of it, think it‘s just appreciation of pure talent and a nice bloke.

You only know the half of it.

 

 

When you win the Champion's League in 2005, it’s the best night of your life (after the birth of your children, of course, and later your marriage a few moths on). 

The celebrations are immense. The sound of Liverpool fans all throughout Atatürk Olympic Stadium is the soundtrack to the night you will never forget, no matter how much you drank that night. The look of sheer joy on your best friend's face is just an added benefit, the way he jumps up and down with you and the team and doesn’t stop smiling for hours on end. When posing for the photo's, he kisses Xabi. Xabi kisses him back. You don’t think anything of it, everyone was running off of endorphins and excitement and the ring of _Champions_ _Of_ _Europe_. You figure it’s just a heat of the moment thing. 

You are so _so_ wrong.

 

 

You find out about them one night during a friendly in France in 2007.

You’re down at the restaurant with the rest of the team, bar Stevie and Xabi. You aren't allowed any alcoholic drinks, Rafa's rules, so you all sit around finishing bottles of Coca Cola before going up to your rooms.

"Right, that's me done, lads." You declare, clapping Pepe, who was nearest to you, on the back as you begin to leave the restaurant and bar. "See youse all tomorrow."

You get a collective murmur of goodbyes as you turn your back and start towards the lift. You‘re busy messaging Nic on your phone, absentmindedly digging in your pocket to fish out your key card to unlock the door. 

When you open the door, it’s pitch dark and you heard a grunt come from Stevie's bed.

"It's fucking dark in here, mate. You ain't asleep yet, are you?" You tease, shutting the door and feeling around for the light switch. You find it, flick it on and turn around. Then you scream. 

"What the fuck?" Stevie jumps back from where he was knelt in front of Xabi, spinning around to look at you in shock. Xabi's hands fly to cover his exposed crotch. 

"Hiya, Carra. Didn't expect you back so soon." Stevie splutters, face giving off the fear he surely felt.

"Don't pussyfoot, Steven." You shake your head, throwing your coat down on the couch and crossing your arms. "What the fuck?"

"Um, Xabi and I are..." Steven trails off, still sitting naked on the floor and avoiding eye contact with both you and Xabi.

" _Estamos_ _involucrados_.” Xabi stutters, shaking his head as he goes back to Spanish for a moment. "Sorry, um, we are involved."

"I can see that." You scoff, sitting down on your bed and pointedly ignoring your naked best friend and your naked teammate who you were really, really fond of. "How long?"

"Two years?" Stevie answers, looking up at Xabi for confirmation. He looks so vulnerable in that moment that you _almost_ feel guilty. You look at Stevie curiously.

"I will go now," Xabi decides, pulling up the trackies that bunched around his ankles. "You two look like you need to speak and I don't want to interfere. I am sorry, Jamie."

As Xabi gets up to leave, Stevie places a quick kiss on his lips and moves to pull his own trousers on. Just before Xabi left, you turn to him with a tight smile. "Don't apologise, Alonso."

Once he’s gone, you look at Stevie expectantly, your eyes saying everything. _Explain_.

So he does. He tells you that yes, he and Xabi are together. No, he doesn’t know what he is doing. Yes, he’s worried about what could occur if anyone else ever found out. No, he doesn’t want to stop. 

When he finishes, the silence in the room is deafening. Then you speak up. "What's it, then? Just a favour between mates or do you love him?"

Stevie looks down at his hands, where he cracks the knuckles on each of his hands (a nervous habit he’s had ever since you two were young). Without looking up at you, he mumbles almost inaudibly. "I think I might love him."

And that is enough for you. You know Stevie doesn't lie to you, _can’t_  lie to you. So with a genuine, friendly, understanding smile on your face, you tell him that everything would work out for the best.

 

 

Afterwards, it becomes like when you mishear a song lyric and now every time you listen to the song you can't hear it the same way. Now that you know about them, you notice things you hadn't before.

Like how after a goal, they manage to find each other, how when they hug they will grip onto each other's skin and bury faces into necks, how when the club goes out for drinks their bodies will gravitate closer and closer towards each other. How the smiles they give one another can only be described as loving.

You treasure this. You haven’t seen Stevie smile this way since Michael, and even with Michael he wasn't this happy. If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s Stevie. The man  _gives_   _gives_   _gives_ , never takes. He makes sure that everyone is okay (whether it be with his daughters', his family, his friends or the team) before he even begins thinking about himself. For once, you think, he deserves to be unapologetically happy and appreciated and loved by someone who can provide that for him.

Xabi is the person to do that.

 

 

When Xabi leaves, you can’t even bring yourself to look at Stevie. Rafa announces that Xabi, along with Álvaro, will be moving to Real Madrid this window. Xabi keeps his eyes trained fiercely on Rafa, not on you or Stevie. He fixes his gaze on a part of Rafa's face and doesn’t look away throughout the speech.

While everyone chats to the two Spaniards, saying there _goodbye_ , _mate's_ and _pleasure_ _playing_ _with_ _you's_ and _all_ _the_ _best_ _in_ _Spain's_ , Stevie slips out of the group and storms towards the dressing rooms. For the first time that day, you make eye contact with Xabi. The sadness in his eyes tells you that there‘s more to the situation than you or Stevie know.

You make your way into the dressing room, following the sound of ragged breaths to the lockers. Xabi's locker, to be precise.

"Fuck off." Steven hisses, glaring at you with bloodshot eyes. "I'm serious, Carragher, don't even come near me or I swear I'll twat you."

"Stevie," you breathe out, before asking tentatively. "Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm not fucking alright, you absolute fucking cock!" Stevie all but growls, hands shaking violently by his side as he clenches his jaw, the bone jutting.

You make your way towards him slowly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He collapses into you, then, burying his face into your training shirt. "Why does this keep on happening to me, Jamie? And it's always fucking Madrid."

You bite your lip, then, letting him wet your shirt with the few tears he allowed to slip. You know that the Michael situation still affects him sometimes. You thought Stevie’s reaction to Michael would have be the lowest point, but if you could've sensed the way this affected Stevie you would’ve told them to call it off the day you walked in on them. 

Moments later, the door opens and closes carefully. Stevie keeps his face pressed to your shirt, shaky breaths wracking his body. So you take it upon yourself to look towards the entrance to see Xabi standing there with his fingers wrung and his eyes brimming with tears. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"Can I," Xabi stutters, voice breaking when his eyes fall on Stevie’s crumpled form. "Can I speak to him? Please." 

Stevie pulls away from your chest, wet eyes looking at Xabi. He puffs out an angry breath. "I don't have anything to say to you."

Xabi's face _falls_. His bottom lip quivers ever so slightly. "Please, Stevie, at least let me explain."

Stevie sets his face, looking a lot braver than you know he feels. "Five minutes, _Alonso_. That's all."

Xabi nods brokenly, stepping forward and towards Stevie. You clear your throat. "I'll be back in five minutes."

With that, you leave. You stand outside the locker room playing bodyguard as you make a call to Nicola to explain that you will probably be housing a drunk Steven Gerrard later. You promise to explain _why_ later. 

As promised, five minutes later you enter the room to find Steven sitting in a ball on one of the benches, Xabi holding him close to his chest as they both try to stop themselves from crying.

Your heart breaks for the both of him, but mostly for Stevie, who always seemed to be the one left behind.

 

 

You realise soon that Stevie’s coping mechanisms are becoming dangerous.

To get over Xabi leaving, he gets closer to Fernando. Which, really, is all fine and well, aside from the fact that Fernando is sporting _the_ _biggest_ _possible_ _crush_ on Stevie. 

And it’s obvious to everyone but Stevie. You and Daniel actually have a bet going as to when Stevie will finally realise. 

“It’s actually incredibly sad.” Pepe points out one night when you’re at a pub, pre season. The two of you are watching from the bar as Stevie and Fernando giggle over the snooker table. “Sergio’s heartbroken.”

“Ramos?” You raise your eyebrows, turning your attention to the goalkeeper.

“Yeah,” Pepe nods solemnly. “Surely you knew that he and Fernando are —were?— together?”

“I didn’t.” You shake your head in consideration. “Have they split?”

“Only when Fernando leaves. On international break they’re inseparable.” Pepe informs you. “Sergio’s asked me to keep him updated on Fernando’s crush on Stevie.”

“And?” You ask, curious.

“And Sergio’s always upset.” Pepe frowns sadly. “But so is Xabi.” 

“What’s Xabi got to do with it?” You’re confused now, eyes back on where Fernando is leaning against the barstool with a fond, silly grin on his face as he watches Stevie focus on potting the blue ball.

“Well both he and Sergio are worlds away from Stevie and Fernando.” Pepe says as if you’re stupid. “And the two of them seem to be doing just fine without them. You know Xabi was always jealous of Nando.”

“Yeah.” You sigh, reminding yourself to yell at Stevie that he’s hurting the best thing that’s ever happened to him. You know he doesn’t want anything to do with Nando, not in that way, but you’re not sure Xabi knows that.

 

 

You watch him on A League Of Their Own one night, three years later. 

He looks happy to be sat up next to Redders again after all these years, you observe as he interacts with the panel. You were worried, when he told you, because Redders knows about Michael and you aren’t sure if Stevie can handle it if it‘s bought up. Jamie is a good mate of yours, a good mate of Stevie's, but the lad definitely lacks tact. 

But everything seems alright. The question for the red team is about celebrating victories with kisses. Stevie comments cooly that he could remember kissing up to 200 people the day of the Champions League Final. You snort at that, knowing _who_ he kissed up to 200 times.

When James Corden shows the videos from Stevie's celebrations, you know what is coming. Sure enough, there’s the clip of Stevie and Xabi's first (of many) kiss. You watch warily as it cuts back to Stevie, who’s smiling shyly as he turned to Redders.

"What a player" Stevie sand fondly, and Jamie nods along with a big smile, saying something back that you can’t pick up on.

Redders probably knows, you think, because even if he isn’t tactful, he’s definitely observant.

 

 

You’re over at Stevie's one afternoon, Alex and Nicola having gone out shopping for Christmas gifts. Lilly, Mia and Lexie are playing around in the garden, taking advantage of the incredibly rare spot of sunlight in late November, while you and Stevie sit watching from the kitchen.

You’re in the middle of a conversation about James' latest school game, where there should've been a penalty but wasn't, when the girls come running in laughing. You pause the conversation and turned to your daughters. 

"It's getting cold." Lilly complains, walking around the counter to stand beside Stevie. "Can I have one of your jumpers? I don't want any of mine to get dirty."

"So you'd rather I dirty mine?" Stevie laughs, getting up from his seat and shooting you a fond look. "Come on, la', you can finish your story upstairs."

You follow Stevie up to his and Alex's bedroom, continuing what you were previously saying as you watched Lilly-Ella scurry towards the walk in closet where Stevie's coats are. She digs around inside for a moment or two before turning around and holding up a nice white one that you’re sure you recognise from somewhere, but can’t place where. 

"Can I wear this one?" The little girl asks, looking up at Stevie with big blue eyes. 

"No, babe. Not this one." Stevie says softly, gently the prying the jumper from her hands. "This one's special. Choose another one, yeah?"

Lilly frowns slightly, but goes back to digging and eventually pulled out a black one that Stevie says is all right if she wears. She pulls it on then slips out the room, thudding down the stairs towards her sister and Mia.

You look to Stevie and see him carefully folding the sleeves of the jumper, and patting it down to make sure it doesn’t crease. He places it back on the shelf almost delicately before closing the door and looking back at you with a slightly strained smile.

He follows you back to the kitchen, and halfway down the stairs you realise where you know the jumper from.

It was one of Xabi's.

 

 

One May evening, you and Nic are over at Stevie's house once again for dinner. The kids have migrated to the living room, adamant on playing a game of Uno because Lilly was certain she'd beat James and Mia. Lexie doesn’t really know what’s going on, bless her, but seems to be enjoying herself.

Stevie is sitting at the head of the table, pushing his peas around with his fork as he halfheartedly listens to the conversations. You cut off a piece of chicken and bite into it. "This is really good, Alex." 

"I'm glad you think so." Alex scoffs, taking a sip of her red wine and glaring at Steven. "At least someone appreciates my cooking."

"It's lovely, Alex," Steven answers, looking up with tired eyes and a gaunt face. "I'm just not very hungry."

"You never fucking are." She bites out, seemingly forgetting that you and Nicola are there too. "You've become a right miserable cunt these past few years, did you know that?"

"Not now," Steven pleads, eyes pained and face drawn. His forehead lines ared more pronounced than usual. "Please, Alex. We've got company."

She scoffs at him, turning away and angrily cutting up a piece of her chicken. "So, Nic, tell me about this salon you went to the other day?"

You look over at Stevie, watching as he lifts the peas and squashes them into his mash, still not eating anything. You’re worried.

He's on a destructive path, you think. He's evidently not eating, he's not sleeping and he's stopped smiling as much. When he scores during games, you know he feels a sense of loss as he gets enveloped in the arms of his teammates, but not by the one he craves most. You thought things would get better with all the years that have passed, and it has but only slightly, because he still crumbles when there’s a phone call or text message from Xabi.

You know he must be driving Alex mad, and you know she‘s taking it personally. You've never been her biggest fan, but because Stevie was so enamoured by her in the beginning you keep quiet. But you've always thought she was a bit too high maintenance, a bit too demanding and in the relationship for the wrong reasons. 

But watching her speak to Stevie the way she has been the past couple of years, and watching Stevie just take it because he was so sick and tired of everything, tears you up.

 

 

Alex and Stevie don't split. Except, they kind of do. They stop sleeping in the same room, only get along for the sake of the kids, and don't even kiss anymore.

When away on holidays (the ones they go on purely for their children), they'd be all smiles and happy family as to take the attention away from the crumbling relationship. Being Catholic, a divorce was out of the question. (But, then again, being in a relationship with a man was just as bad, wasn’t it?). You don’t think they'll ever officially split, but you know that emotionally it had already happened.

But Stevie does seem happier afterwards. Freer. But still nowhere near the joy he experienced during the 2000s. You know he misses Xabi, hell, anyone who knew the two of them could've figured that out. That's why, when the two of you are out one night for drinks a couple months before he leaves to America, you bring it up with him.

"How's Alonso?"

He blinks at you. His grip tightens around his bottle. "I don't know, do I? Haven't seen the fella in years."

"But you must speak to him, surely." You press on, watching his resolve crumble.

"Well," Stevie fidgets and you know you’ve got him. "Every now and again. Not the way we used to, though. He's happy with Nagore now. Apparently she's pregnant again."

You frown. That can’t be right, Xabi can’t be happier than he was with Stevie. No one can be happier without Stevie after they’ve met him. Look at Michael, for example, the prime of his career was at Liverpool because he had Steven to motivate and encourage him all the way through. Xabi was the same.

"I doubt it, mate." You say firmly, confidently. "Give him a call sometime. Visit him one day, I'm willing to bet you a tenner that you'll be surprised."

He looks at you thoughtfully, before taking a swig of his lager.

 

 

You‘re in the living room watching Corrie when James comes dashing in with a grin on his face. You pause the recorded episode and look at your son warily.

"What have you done?" 

"You won't believe was Lilly has just told me." He throws himself down on the seat across from you, leg bouncing excitedly. 

Your son had decided months ago that he was in love with Lilly-Ella Gerrard, your best friend's sixteen-year-old daughter and his pride and joy. He asked her out, she said yes, and Stevie blew his top. When he remembered that James was your's and Nic's kid, he calmed down a bit, but you can still sense the tension from him, even after he'd fucked off to Scotland to manage Rangers.

"What is it, then?" You ask, curious now.

"He's shacked up again." James grins from ear to ear, tapping around on his phone and turning it to show you a photo that Lilly must've just sent him.

You gape, taking his phone from his hands and staring at it. On the screen, is Steven George Gerrard sitting in his big bed ( _it’s too fucking big, always so bloody lonely, Carra_ ) with none other than Xabier Alonso Olano by his side, watching the telly and looking completely happy and completely oblivious. The caption Lilly had sent along read "look at the happy couple"

You laugh joyfully, handing the phone back to James. "Fucking finally." You speak through a toothy smile. "Look, send her a message and ask her to tell her old man that he owes me a tenner." 

"Why?" James scrunches up his nose.

"He'll know why." you assure him, leaning back on the couch to carry on watching your soaps.

 

 

When Stevie comes back to Merseyside after his four year spell at management in Glasgow, he’s looking better than ever. His smile is real, his eyes are no longer so sad and exhausted and he is functioning like a normal human being again. But, best of all, Xabi is back by his side. 

He settles back into his old house, the one just up the street from yours and the one he bought after his not-quite-split with Alex. It’s a five bedroom, with a room for Stevie, one for Lilly (who convinced Alex to let her move in Stevie when she turned fourteen), one for Lexie when she came to visit and two guest rooms for when you or Robbie or anyone else stayed over after nights out.

You had them over to celebrate the return. You hold back a laugh at the look of fury on Stevie’s face when Lilly greets James with a cheeky kiss. Stevie and Xabi both gI’ve you a hug, and both kiss Nic on the cheek as they enter the house. Xabi rests a gentle hand on Stevie's arm as he steps forward to, most probably, threaten James about Lilly (again). Jon trails in afterwards, smiling at everyone and looking a whole fucking bunch bigger than the last time you saw him.

"Looking just like your old man, kid." You laugh, clapping him on the back and closing the door behind him.

"Oh, don't tell him that," Xabi laughs at the scrunched up look on Jon's face. "He doesn't want that."

Stevie looks to Xabi then, pressing his lips to Xabi's ear and mumbling something in there that made him laugh and blush ever-so-slightly. Frankly, you don’t want to know what is being said. Lilly apparently felt the same because she shoves Stevie in the ribs and cackles as he stumbled away from Xabi.

"I need a drink if I'm going to have to put up with your feral child around my daughter." Stevie teases light heartedly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "Take me to the bar, Carragher."

You just shake your head, leading Stevie through the living room, through the kitchen and into the room where you have the bar and the pool table. Nicola had asked for it to be made into a dining room, but between you and James you won the battle to make it into what it is now. 

"See, my bender of a best friend finally found true love." You grin, walking around the bar to pull out a six pack of beers. "I think it's all thanks to me, too."

"And why the fuck do you think that, eh?" Stevie looks at you as if you had just told him that Manchester United were the best in the league.

"Who told you to ring him up when you was being a sulky fuck?" You point out, breaking the plastic around the bottles and taking them out.

Stevie grumbles something about _shut the fuck up, you arrogant bastard_  and picks up three bottles. You grab the other half, and follow him back to the living room. As you‘re walking, you‘re pushed aside by your twenty year old son who‘s busy charging towards the pool table.

"Manners, James!" You hiss, but he ignores you as he enters the room. Behind him, Jon is walking at an acceptable pace in the same direction.

"He thinks he can beat me at pool." Jon explains cockily, and Stevie snorts after he passes by.

"Your kid's fucked, mate. Xabi's nipper is even better than me, and we all know I'm fucking magic." Stevie chuckles, reentering the kitchen and handing Xabi and Nicola their drinks. Nicola smiles as thanks and Xabi kisses Stevie on the cheek.

One of the (many, many, many) things you loved about Nic was that she never conforms to the typical wag stereotype. She actually enjoys football and doesn’t pretend to be to keep up appearances, she could out drink Stevie at any given chance and she would rather go out for Nando's with you than to some posh restaurant that all her friends went to.

"Dad." Lilly appears around the corner, strutting up to the counter you’re all sitting around. "Can I have a drink?"

"No, fuck off." Stevie frowns at her. You laugh, knowing that he’s unbelievably protective of her. Xabi squeezes Stevie’s thigh under the table and picks up a bottle, handing it to Lilly.

"Just the one," he tells her, and she smiles up at him thankfully. "Share it with Mia."

Lilly just rolls her eyes playfully and leaves the room again. Stevie glares at Xabi with no real anger and you thought it was just so... domestic.

You‘re so glad that Stevie finally found his way back to Xabi.


End file.
